Page 110 of Back to December
“I’ve seen so many versions of us,” I whisper when we break apart. “Some that hurt. Some that felt like dreams. But in every one of them, Holden…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “In every alternate timeline, I choose you. Every time.”
His eyes shine, warm brown threaded with gold, catching the light like sunlight through honey. “Then we’ll keep choosing each other,” he says. “As many times as it takes.”
He doesn’t rush the kiss that follows either. It’s gentle, almost reverent—the kind that feels like an answer rather than a question. The world hums quietly around us—no burning, no running, no ghosts left to chase.
Just the two of us standing in the golden aftermath.
When we finally part, our foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the cold air.
“What’s going on with you?” he murmurs. “Last night?—”
“I was scared and stupid. Same as October. And every weekend before that.”
He laughs softly, and the sound rumbles through me. “You weren’t stupid. Just scared. And I get that. You were protecting your heart.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean. Holden, I’ve seen what we can be.”
“I have too,” he says, thumb brushing my cheek. “For a long time.”
“No,” I whisper. “I saw it. All of it. We lived here. We had two kids—Luna and Henry—and they were perfect. Gumdrop’s still with me,” I whisper. “He’s been my breadcrumb all along. The house was full of love, laughter, and gingerbread. I didn’t think something so beautiful could be ours.”
His voice is quiet. “What else?”
“Luna loves to read. Henry’s fearless. You paint. I bake.We laugh a lot.” My throat tightens. “I once thought love was supposed to burn red—loud, reckless—but this feels golden. Steady. True. And I want it—all of it—with you.”
“You could’ve just said you missed me.”
I laugh through a tear. “I did. Every version of me did.”
He brushes his lips against my forehead. “Then maybe you finally found your way home.”
“I think I did,” I say. “I just had to stop running long enough to see it.”
“Turns out the gumdrops were right where I left them,” I murmur, smiling through tears. “Still shining. Still leading me home.”
His arms come around me, pulling me into his warmth as the last traces of sunlight spill across the snow.
“I’m a patient man,” he murmurs. “You were always worth the wait.”
“I love you,” I breathe. “And I’m done waiting. I choose us.”
He grins, soft and steadily. My boy with the bread. “Welcome home, honey.”
thirty-nine
HOLDEN
NEW YEAR’S EVE
The world looksdifferent now that the storm has passed.
Not just the one at Wanderlust Refuge—but the one we weathered between us.
I’m surprised Laila hasn’t randomly dropped to one knee already.
Ever since we were snowed in, she hasn’t stopped talking about the life she saw—her littleGhost of Christmas Futuremoment, as she calls it. She talks about it like it was real, like she can still feel those little hands in hers. And honestly? I believe her. I wish I could’ve seen what she did—especially the part with our kids.
But despite her full-fledged want to burst straight into that future, I want to make sure we do it right.
